


Pre-Marital

by Itrustyoutokillme



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, co-write, post-escape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 21:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11090133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/pseuds/Itrustyoutokillme
Summary: One shot fluff fest.  Michael has something to ask Sara.





	Pre-Marital

**Author's Note:**

> Co-write with the lovely Jess! As always, she is the Sara to my Michael <3

"Okay, move over," Michael called to Sara, skipping barefoot from the kitchen to their lounge with a massive bowl of popcorn. The green plastic bowl was filled to the brim but weighed almost nothing as he settled back down onto the edge of the couch before throwing his weight back into the seat. Michael swung his legs back onto the deep, chocolately brown cushions and crossed his feet over each other at the opposite end of the couch. "Popcorn?" Michael smiled, offering Sara the bowl.

Sara snuggled into Michael, reaching her hand into the bowl of popcorn. She motioned to the TV, and smiled at Michael. "What would you do if your wedding planner ended up being your ex girlfriend."

Michael’s eyes fell back on the TV and he laughed, contemplating the situation. “I’d try to make sure it would never happen,” he began, stuffing a few pieces of fluffy popcorn into his mouth and chewing on them hungrily. “I mean it, I know people, and I would have no reservations about taking out my ex,” he laughed, offering her a smile. “She scratched my car once you know.”

"Oh, you poor baby." Sara rolled her eyes. "Well, I can assure you none of my exes are wedding planners. Most of them are probably in jail, so we will not have to worry about that."

"We?" Michael looked at her with a tilted expression. "Did I miss something?" He asked her, reaching to put more popcorn into his mouth but missing and dropping it silently to his pale blue shirt.

Sara arched an eyebrow, picking the popcorn that had fallen on his shirt and held it up for him to eat it off of her fingers. She had thought they were on the road to being engaged. "No, Michael. You didn't miss anything. I was just talking."

Michael arched his neck forward and sucked the popcorn from Sara’s fingers with a slurp. He looked away from her, back to the TV and then his gaze was lost on the bowl of popcorn resting against his stomach, rising and falling with each breath he took. “How many times have we seen this movie?” Michael asked her with a weak laugh.

"Probably about ten." Sara smiled, glancing over at him and trying to read his expression. "God, Michael, calm down. It's not like I was proposing. Sorry that the idea of marrying me is so completely terrifying."

"It's not," Michael said suddenly, snapping his head sideways and meeting her hazel gaze. He swallowed a nervous lump that had formed in his throat and fiddled with the popcorn in between his fingers. "I never said that, Sara."

"Okay." Sara turned to him. "Michael Scofield, will you marry me?" She watched as the color drained from his face, and let out a loud scoff. "See! Oh, my God."

Michael felt cold and numb and his heart rate sped up in his chest. “Sara…” he began, but the words caught in his throat, not wanting to leave his mouth in any hurry. He had dreamed of this kind of moment, said those words over and over to her in his mind but now he really wanted to, he was stuck fast and Sara was aggravated.

"No. Just be quiet, Michael." Sara turned back to the TV, gluing her eyes on the movie. "It's not a big deal, whatever. I mean, obviously, you only marry people you really, really care about! Why marry me? I mean, how could I possibly live up to the stripper with the green card!"

Michael stared at Sara's profile and his body totally froze at her response. He sat up slightly, moving to place the popcorn onto the coffee table beside the couch and swung his legs off the cushions until they hit the floor. He buried his face in his hands and exhaled hard, staring at his feet, all eight of his toes tapping against the floor. Michael's mind raced and the sound of the movie faded away as quickly as it had appeared.

Sara flicked the movie off and tossed the remote onto the table. "What, Michael? Are you going to get pouty every time I mention Nika? I'm sorry that it's a sore subject for me, okay?" She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his neck. "I love you."

"I know you do," Michael said quietly, offering her a weak smile before finding it more appropriate to focus his attentions on the scuffed corner of the coffee table. He leant out of her caress, pushing himself to his feet and padding silently across their wooden laminate flooring to the bathroom.

"Michael?" Sara suddenly felt bad. She stood, following him slowly down the hallway. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like I did. It was just. . . a long day at work. . ."

“No, don’t be sorry,” Michael called gently through the door, leaning his back against the wooden panel and pressing his eyes closed. “It’s not your fault I can’t handle sudden change,” he joked, chuckling deeply in his chest and lifting his hand to scratch idly at his brow.

"Michael? Let me in." Sara knocked against the door softly. She couldn't stand when he shut her out, mentally or physically. "Come on. We don't have to get married ever."

“Just give me a few minutes, okay?” Michael pleaded softly. “I’ll be ok, I swear,” he assured her. “Go back to the couch, I’ll be back in a moment,” he finished firmly, stepping from the door and moving across the cold, tiled floor to the cupboard under the sink basin. He pulled the door open slowly, careful not to let it creak and reached his hand up and inside, smoothing his fingers over the inside until he met a familiar shape and pulled it free.

Sara sighed, moving silently back into the living room. She sprawled out on the couch, and grabbed for a blanket, spreading it across her. She was cold, and she didn't feel like watching the movie anymore. She wished she hadn't upset Michael.

Michael stood back up from his kneeling position and inspected the red leather box. A tiny gold rim had been painted onto the leather and it snapped open when Michael pulled the edges apart. He blew out a huge breath, lightly tracing his finger over the diamond that sat proudly at the centre of the white gold ring, sparkling in the ultimate white bathroom lighting. Was he ready for this? He didn't know. He turned his body sideways, sitting on the toilet lid and placing the box, open and full of questions, in front of him on the edge of the bath. Michael just stared at it and ran his hand over his slightly sweaty brow.

Michael didn't hear Sara's pleas, too distracted by the enticing glitter of the diamond in front of him. He ran his hands over his face and suddenly felt very stuffy in the small bathroom. His feet tapped against the floor and each time he blinked he imagined himself proposing, and yet, somehow he was afraid that if he did, Sara would say no and he would loose her forever. He couldn't lose her, not after everything they had faced.

Sara sighed, and stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. She walked down the hallway and tapped gently on the bathroom door. "Honey, I'm going to make some hot chocolate, okay? Come out and get some whenever you want."

Michael blinked and shook his head with a frown. Sara's voice rang in his ears, shaking him from his thoughts. "Uh...yeah, okay," he croaked, coughing to clear his throat afterwards. It had hit him. Everything Sara had ever done for him, risked for him, came flooding back to him. If he could never give her anything else in the world, he owed her happiness and for some irresponsible and selfish reason, Michael was standing in the way of that. Sara wanted to marry him, he knew that, and he wanted to marry her, but no one had ever told him it would be this scary when you did it for real.

Sara sighed and made her way into the kitchen. She placed the kettle on the stove, and filled it with water, waiting for it to boil. She had been dealing with Michael's moods for a long time now, but they never stopped upsetting her.

Michael took a long inhalation and swiped the box from the edge of he bath. "Sara?" he called down the hall when he pulled the door open and she was gone already. He stepped out into the heated hall and looking down towards the kitchen. He heard the running of water, followed by the clatter of metal against metal and shoved the box into the back pocket of his jeans while he walked towards the kitchen. "Sara?" he repeated, peering around the corner sheepishly.

Sara set the packets of cocoa down on the counter, and turned around, smiling at him. "Hey, baby." She moved closer to him, kissing him softly. "Are you still hungry? I'll make you something."

Michael held her, sighing softly into her hair when a wave of relief engulfed his body. He stepped back from her slightly, taking her hands in his that shook violently. "No, I’m good. Listen Sara," he began, dropping his gaze to his hands and then lifting it back to her eyes once more. "I want to say something and I don't want you say anything until I'm done, okay?" he gulped, his face pale and a cold, salty sweat dripping from every pore.

Sara took in a deep breath, and leaned against the wall of the kitchen. This was it. She had scared him off once and for all. It had been going too good, too great. She bit her bottom lip, and waited. "Yeah, baby. Whatever you need."

"Okay," Michael whispered to himself with a ragged pattern. Why was this so hard? He fumbled with her hands, squeezing and then rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. "Okay," he repeated louder, lifting his wide eyes to meet hers once more. "Sara, I love you. I love you more than anything in this whole wide world," he paused; his voice shaky and unable to continue without a few breathes. "And I don't know where I would be without you. Well, actually, I’d be dead, we both know that..." Michael rambled. His eyes lingered on her for a long while, and all the words he had planned on saying left his brain empty and void. "I uh..." he licked his lips nervously and his breathing became rapid and unpredictable. "God, why is this so hard," he laughed timidly.

Words rarely failed Michael Scofield. Sara knew that better than anyone. She took a step into him, placing her hand on his cheek, breaking her vow not to speak. "Michael, you're scaring me."

Michael looked up at her and caught a glimpse of sadness and fear in her eyes. "Sara, I’ve never been more petrified in my entire life," he admitted on another fretful laugh. "I've been over and over this in my mind a million times. What i would say, how I would say it, how you would react...It's just all gone and I can't find a way out of the maze I’m trapped in."

"Michael, you are not trapped in anything," Sara whispered, shaking her head. She moved away from him. "Is that how you feel? Like you're trapped with me?" She bit her bottom lip and moved towards the stove, removing the whistling pot.

Suddenly, a pin the size of Antarctica dropped in Michael's mind. He replayed the words he had just said, combined them with Sara's reaction and deduced her thought process. "Oh no," Michael exclaimed stepping towards Sara and draping his massive body over her shoulders. "That's not it," he smiled; feeling at ease now he had cleared that up. Her reached behind himself and pulled the box from his pocket with a tug. He produced it in front of Sara, closed and clasped between his thumb and forefinger. "Open it, and don't say anything," he told her, breathing his words into her ear.

Sara took the small, leather box from him and held it in her fingers for several seconds before opening it. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she slowly lifted the lid. A perfect, sparking diamond ring stared back up at her. It was everything she would have picked out for herself; the knowledge of how well Michael knew her hit fast and hard. Before she could stop, a tiny, quiet sob erupted from her throat, coupled with the sting of tears.

"I've had it for months," he admitted calmly. "Taped to the inside of the bathroom cupboard would you believe, " he chuckled, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Sara Tancredi," he began, feeling his body surge with unexpected courage. "Will you marry me?"

"You. . ." Sara felt another sob escape her throat, and she clutched the box tightly in her hands, turning to wrap her arms tightly around his neck. The tears ran faster down her face and she pressed her lips against his neck. "Michael Scofield!"

"Is that a yes?" Michael smiled, holding her arms to his neck.

"It's more than a yes!" Sara exclaimed, pulling away, and trying to wipe away her tears. "Nothing would make me happier."

Michael plucked the box from her hands and carefully pulled the ring from the secure slice in the foam lining it had lived in for so long. He lifted Sara's hand and pushed it onto her ring finger gently. "You're so beautiful," he told her, cupping her face again and pulling her to his for a long, soft kiss.

Sara kissed him back slowly, revelling in the moment. She pulled away slowly, brushing her nose against his. "You're so beautiful!" Sara returned with a giggle. She held her hand out, admiring their ring. "It's so beautiful."

"Katie said you'd like it, but she just confirmed my choice," he beamed. His heart rate was still pounding, but this time he as sure it was a good succession of beats, and not a faltering rhythm of doubt. "You can tell her she can talk about it now. She's been bursting at the seams for weeks!" Michael laughed, quickly snatching another kiss.

"What took you so long to ask?" Sara murmured against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck again. "You had to know I'd say yes, Michael."

"I couldn't find the words," he admitted between kisses as his hands roamed down her back and he leant forward, pressing her into the counter. "And you know i had to plan something, prepare a speech," he rolled his eyes at himself. "Michael Scofield, perfectionist at your service."

"Well," Sara murmured, pressing her lips to his. "Sara, baby, I love you. Let's get married would have worked just fine, Michael Scofield."

"You're kidding right?" he quirked a brow at her. "I feel bad i didn't get down on one knee," he chuckled with a grin.

"Michael, I've told you a thousand times," Sara whispered, kissing him again. She felt like she never wanted to stop. "You don't have to be so perfect."

Michael kissed her back, silencing her words with long, slow, languid thrusts of his tongue that left her moaning for more. Michael's hands found her hips and he trailed his fingers along her waistband, tugging playfully against the belt loops with a smile. "So, where do you stand on sex before marriage?" he asked huskily, watching his fingers on her skin with lustful eyes.

Sara giggled, pressing her body into his. "Well, I guess I can make an exception in this case, Scofield. Considering we are engaged."

"Engaged," Michael repeated her words, testing them on his tongue. "I like it."

"I like the sound of it too," Sara agreed, taking Michael by the hands and leading him back towards the bedroom. She smiled as he kicked the door shut behind him, and tackled her on the bed, laughing all the while. Whispering how much she loved him against his mouth, Sara proceeded to show Michael exactly how she felt about sex before marriage.


End file.
